Follow On: The Appendices
by Many Impossible Things
Summary: A collection of stand-alone pieces in the universe of my longer story "Follow On" (before, during, after, whatever people would like to read about). Requests incredibly welcome.
1. First Snow

Hello there! :) Housekeeping and such to follow:

Well, if you've come here from Follow On, welcome! I'm glad you're still around and don't want to leave, just like me. For those of you who are Poppy world noobs, welcome! (I use that term lovingly, I promise. It's an endearment in my family.) This will be a collection of one-shots in the universe of a behemoth of a story I've written in the Hobbit fandom, so if you'd like you should go check that out before continuing *spoilers ahem*. It's rather good I'm told, despite the intimidating length. It'll make for a lovely long weekend. Otherwise, if you're cool with jumping in with an OC, by all means continue on...

Okay, disclaimer time: I am not JRR Tolkien, woe unto me. I own nothing from his universe of Arda whatsoever and am making no claims that I do, nor am I making any money from this entirely enjoyment-driven piece.

And finally, the way I envision this working is mainly by requests. I'm going to shoot for putting up something new once a week or so. I'm making a foray into original works which is terrifying, so this can be a nice break for me. :) If you shoot me the idea, I'll dedicate it to you and everything. So, without further ado, here we go.

 _First Snow_ is for Fantasylover101, who wanted something long (4775 words!), to know what everyone was up to, and some happy things. I hope this will do! :)

* * *

 _S.R. 1342, December_

"Tell him to go away. It's too early."

Smiling, Poppy merely pulled harder on the blanket Fili was valiantly trying to remain hidden beneath. All things considered, she couldn't blame him. The stone floor was terribly cold beneath her bare feet. Her husband a dwarf who never realized it was cold and more than warm enough to keep her comfortable, she never managed to wake up in the night to stoke the fire. It was always nearly spent when she woke to the shafts of sunlight coming through the frosty skylight above them.

It had yet to properly snow more than just a dusting that melted by noon, but the coldest bits of winter were surely on their way. If the last month or so—which had been her first of married life—was any indication, she had nothing but long, warm, all around lovely nights to look forward to. She'd gladly deal with cold mornings in exchange.

Wrapped up in the wonderfully soft, warm, burgundy robe that Balin had given her as a wedding present, she'd done her best to coax the embers back to life. They'd taken but only barely. That was around the time Kili had begun pounding loudly on their front door. Though she had nothing against staying in bed a while longer, she knew that they needed to start the day.

Smirk on her face, she'd started trying to rouse Fili from where he was hiding beneath their many covers.

He had a terrible lot of princely things to accomplish. Dáin and a group of dwarves from the Iron Hills were set to arrive that day in preparation for Yule, not to mention Tauriel was arriving back from Mirkwood—which, aside from his natural orneriness, explained Kili's excitement.

Tugging on the blanket again, she laughed at the sad keen of defeat that left him when his bare skin met the air, "Come along, the faster you get out of bed, the faster it's time to sleep again."

"Or we could just stay in bed. My shoulder hurts which means yours does, too. We can be invalids for a day."

Groaning pitifully a final time at her silence, he rolled onto his back and looked toward her at the end of the bed. Smirking from where she was perched beside his feet, she held his heated gaze until he whispered, "Hi."

Knowing the look he was giving her and having to momentarily fight against its power, she leaned forward and kissed him quickly. Turning about and presenting her large mass of hair, she replied cheerily, "Hi."

Fili sighed, "We're not going back to bed, are we?"

"Nope. We have work to do."

Muttering good-naturedly under his breath, her blonde dwarf sat up with a stretch. Seemingly ignoring the cold, he forewent grabbing a shirt and settled to her favorite part of their mornings. Just as he had promised her upon her return to Erebor earlier that fall, he dutifully braided her hair every day.

Because, also as he had promised, he took great pride in taking them out the nights before.

There was something incredibly soothing about having another brush and braid her hair, although that was only part of why she was so fond of the time. It had become something of an equivalent to their nights sitting watch. For a wonderful length of time every day, they could just sit near to one another with no one else about and nothing else they were required to do.

Beginning to run his fingers through her unruly curls, he asked as he usually did, "Which of your many jobs are you doing today?"

Though prince came with a fairly straightforward if numerous set of responsibilities that had Fili at Thorin's side most days, they had all found that princess was much less restricted. Even if it hadn't been, Ori often joked, it wouldn't have mattered. She would've done what she thought important anyway.

"Toymaker. Bifur and I have been almost cleaned out. With Yule so close, we have to replenish our stores. I promised Tilda I'd ride out and we'd make sure the bees were warm enough. Bard's convinced it will snow within the next few days. With Dáin coming, Miri asked for an extra hand in the kitchens since I've fed them before. I think Ori had something he wanted to do in the library, too. And a few others things."

She'd said 'a few other things' enough in the past for both of them to know that she would drag herself to their family dinner with Thorin, Kili, and Dís late and likely fall asleep before dessert because of how very full her day had been.

Whatever complaints some of the more traditional, annoyingly outspoken Dwarves under the Mountain might have about their new princess, not a one had ever called her lazy. She presumed that much of that was from the heavy glares sent their way by Thorin, but part of her imagined it was simply because it was untruthful.

Sitting idle still did not agree with her.

They spoke of Fili's morning as he finished his task and they both ignored how Kili's knocking had started up again. Dressing quickly and pulling on the dark wool legwarmers that the always motherly Dori had given her once the temperature began to drop beneath her blue dress, she pressed a final kiss to her dwarf's lips.

Smiling at the way her eyes still slowly fluttered open, he squeezed her waist and said quietly, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Standing up on her toes, she kissed him quickly again before grabbing her coat and a biscuit on her way to the door. Stopping abruptly, her many-stranded braid swaying ahead of her, she turned back, "Oh, could you please ask Dwalin…"

"I'll ask, but we both know what he'll say." He watched with a growing grin as her blue eyes rolled and she muttered some unhappy things under her breath. And there was the independent, occasionally growly hobbit he loved. With a scowl, she grabbed a second biscuit. "Say hello to Orik for me."

He was answered only with more grumbling as she unlatched the door and started down their stairs. He faintly heard her voice after their front door squeaked open, "Yes, Kili, he's awake. Yes, he's clothed…mostly."

Whatever teasing Kili gave her for that was likely ignored and he quickly pulled on a pair of pants to make her honest. Mahal, he loved being married to her.

* * *

"Come along, Orik. We've lots to do today." Tossing the red-haired dwarf the biscuit she'd grabbed him, Poppy started down the walkway overlooking Erebor's main square. She still had trouble not seeing it as Smaug's treasure room on occasion, but it was home nonetheless.

Clomping down the stairs a step behind her, Orik remained silent as he ate his breakfast. Much to her displeasure, Dwalin had assigned him to her within her first week back. Why she needed a guard in what was supposed to be her home, she was still arguing with him about, but at least Orik was of a quiet persuasion. Apparently he'd been something of a hunter before returning to Erebor and joining the guard.

How he'd caught anything she would never know because like every other dwarf she'd ever met, compared to her his footsteps were ridiculously loud. It threw her off kilter more often than not. What Dwalin either didn't understand or just refused to acknowledge was that she'd lived alone for over a decade. Even if she'd gotten over the strongest of her hermetic traits, she still needed time alone. Life was exhausting otherwise.

Standing in her garden with a silent dwarf did _not_ count as alone.

Smiling and saying good morning to those who greeted her on their way, she arrived first in the royal kitchens. Looking rather harried already—though likely from her own worrying rather than actual problems—Miri greeted her with a crushing hug and a plea for what Dáin most liked to eat.

Rolling her eyes and shrugging her braid over her shoulder, Poppy replied, "Food. You needn't concern yourself further than that. Dáin will eat anything. What do you need the most help with?"

They looked at one another for a short moment before both said in unison, "Bread."

Sighing lightly after the large woman had turned, the hobbit rolled her right shoulder a few times. The last winter she, Gandalf, Bilbo, and Bifur had been traveling through most of the cold months. Her wound had been mostly healed and she hadn't really been able to tell the difference between it and soreness from time spent on a pony. This winter she had the chance.

As October had turned into November and then December, she and Fili had felt the consequences of their battle scars. Though she couldn't say why Bard was convinced of snow, she was prone to agree with him by the stiffness in the joint. Aside Fili, she generally spoke of it to no one. Thorin didn't need to be reminded of old hurts, especially when he was so happy. Annoyed at politics more often than not, but happy.

"Shall we, Orik?" she asked, looking to her shadow with a preemptively tired smile.

Pulling off his gloves and move to wash his hands, he nodded bluntly, "Just tell me what to fetch."

"Flour, salt, and yeast first, please," she answered automatically while fetching a three-legged stool from beside the hearth. It was an old, slightly teetering thing, but she'd claimed it as hers weeks ago. It lived in its place of honor and no kitchen maid who giggled about their princess being a hobbit when Bombur was in hearing was a kitchen maid for long.

His wife being the baker of the couple, he would show up in a few hours with the bairns to get started on the cooking. He clumped everywhere he went these days, but was as jolly and round as ever—in fact, probably more so.

It was past dawn and therefore rather late for bakers, but a half a dozen or so more dwarf women appeared. Each smiled and curtseyed to Poppy upon seeing her, even covered in flour and wrist-deep in dough, then respectfully greeting her with her official title, "Princess Annori."

It still felt incredibly strange to her, but she'd learned to simply smile in acknowledgement of their respect and subsequently be grateful that they spoke with her normally after.

With her troops all present, Miri took on the role of general with a stronger iron fist than even Dáin could manage. And just as his soldiers chanted on the battlefield, their company of bakers had their own music. As steady as a heartbeat, they kept their work lively with songs and chants in Khuzdul that likely drove the old dwarves in the treasury down the hall half mad.

Though she couldn't say for certain, Poppy was convinced that her even partial fluency helped them accept her far quicker than if she'd been forced to stand quietly to the side, unable to understand. Instead, her voice was as strong as the others', booming out the strong sounds and stamping her feet along with the rest.

She honestly wasn't sure of what language she was speaking anymore. Her brain just took what it heard and replied accordingly. She spoke Westron with Tilda, Siggy, and all the other people of Dale. Tauriel ensured her Sindarin remained strong, though from what the Lady Galadriel had told her what felt like so long ago, she wasn't likely to forget it. And Khuzdul felt more natural every day. Again in the ancestral home of their people, the dwarves of Erebor took great pleasure in speaking their own language. All knew Westron and easily spoke with the Men who visited to trade, but Poppy could hear the pride in their voices when they switched back again.

She felt like she was witnessing an entire race find themselves again. There were complaints that she was going to taint the royal line of that race, but she didn't care to listen to that really and the longer she was there, the more she thought most others didn't either.

A baker woman had made a comment along those lines in whispered Khuzdul that she knew she wasn't supposed to understand, but had. Without hesitation, Miri had shouted her not only out of her kitchen but down the stairs, over a walkway, and through the square. She hadn't been back.

Though she hadn't been there, she still heard stories of when one of Thorin's new advisors had formally objected to her when Fili announced their engagement. She had never seen Fili truly, properly livid, but the tale went that he'd made the dwarf twice his age cry. What she had seen was the way his hands had shaken violently after riding across the valley to find her with Tilda and their bees. She'd felt the force of his feelings when he pulled her to him and kissed her in a way that said he'd murder any who tried to take her.

She'd been worried that the little worry line between his eyes would be permanent after seeing the scowl on his face, but it had eased as he helped them through their chores, wrapping up hives to make sure they stayed warm.

Aside from those first unsure moments, it had been a wonderful day. They'd ridden about the valley, hiding among the little stands of trees that were stubbornly beginning their new lives, making up for lost time, and reminding one another of time spent in barrels of fish.

She'd been cold but giddy when they finally returned to a mountain that thought they'd run away and eloped. They were married a mere week later.

Losing herself in her thoughts, Poppy didn't hear her name being called until Orik gently nudged her in the side, a tiny smile on his usually stoic face. Blinking, she saw the others all staring at her with smirks on their faces. "Umm, yes?"

Rolling her eyes teasingly, a mahogany-haired Dwarrowdam named Sig who had taken to walking home with Poppy when they were both in the kitchens late muttered loudly, "Ugh, newlyweds."

Poppy scrunched up her face at her as the others laughed before turning to see what Miri had actually wanted.

Ten rising loaves and a screaming shoulder later, she took her leave to a chorus of farewells.

"Where to now, my lady," Orik asked as they headed toward the square.

"You know I think it's strange when you call me that." Yawning, she replied, "To Ori in the library, Bifur and Bofur at the toyshop, Oin for something about this shoulder, to Thorin to find out when I have to be flour-less for Dáin, and Dwalin to see about getting you a more useful job. Not necessarily in that order."

"I'll never be bored with you, will I, my lady."

"Thorin said something along those lines once and no, you won't. But it's Poppy or Anna. My lady makes me feel important."

Pulling out a pipe and lighting it as they walked, he snickered, "I think it's a bit late to worry about that, my lady."

He caught a few words said under her breath that he would never say in front of his mother before she muttered, "I swear you've been friends with Kili. So irritating."

* * *

"I'm going to the washroom. I'll be back shortly."

Moving toward the door of Bifur's toyshop where they, Bombur, and Orik had been either carving or painting new wares since before lunch, she caught her old friend's eye through the smoky air. Silently chuckling, he smirked at her and gave a nod. Just as he always had, he didn't need her to say anything to know what she was really up to.

There was a reason they were still best friends.

Snagging Bifur's heavy hide and fur coat from a hook by the door, she silently crept out into the street, leaving her minder and friends behind.

As planned, she'd seen nearly all her old Company-mates during the course of the morning.

She and Ori had rearranged a new section of books he had decided upon. The library in Erebor now had a shelf all about Elves. Kili had immediately borrowed almost half of them and when they brought the idea up in weeks previous Gloin hadn't stopped grumbling. The master of the library subject to no one but Thorin, Ori hadn't cared. Though his sleeves were still too long and his manner quiet, he had found his voice. None but Dori could shush him these days.

Said brother had taken up the mantle of trader. He ran the shop and Nori went out into the world to acquire their wares—likely somewhat dubiously, she imagined.

In his healing houses full of dwarves with colds, sneezing and hacking into their beards, Oin had said there was little to do for her and Fili's aches aside just waiting them out. He also suggested what she'd come to realize was his cure-all: peppermint tea and honey. With amusement in his eye, he'd also mentioned making Fili rub it for her.

Her trip to see Thorin had also brought her to her husband, Kili, Balin, and Gloin who all slaved away at administering the mountain. She envied them in no way, shape, or form. From the looks they always gave the redhead, they felt much the same way about Orik's task.

Along with getting a kiss from Fili, she learned that she had until roughly sundown before Dáin arrived. That had been hours ago and she was going to take advantage of the time she had.

Pulling on Bifur's coat and the knitted hat he kept in the pocket for her, she scampered as quickly and quietly as she could toward the main gate. If she'd kept proper track, Dwalin should have been at his late lunch that he took with Dís once every week. That meant he wasn't standing up on the battlements with his eagle eyes, just waiting for her to make a break for it without Orik.

As hoped, she found Gimli in charge of the gate. He handed her a light short sword to keep on her saddle as customary by then.

She was fond of Gloin's son and had found a surprising ally in the usually rule-loving dwarf. As he'd said it one day she'd successfully lost Orik and he was about to let her pass unhindered, "Master Dwalin is the Captain of the Guard, but you're Princess of Erebor, wife of Prince Fili, and the Dragon-rider. Who am I to stop you?"

Waving to him, she quickly grabbed one of the ponies on shift to stay harnessed in case of emergency. The white creature had a sweet temperament and loved a good gallop. Kili had named her Moira after Fili's pony from the first leg of their journey. She took her whenever she could.

Pulling herself up into the saddle, she smiled as she patted the pony's neck, "Are you feeling up to a nice run today, Moira?"

She was answered with a happy whicker and they were off. Turning back, she called, "Thank you, Gimli!"

Hands up in the air and the cold wind buffeting her face as Moira galloped as she wished, she thought she could hear the dwarf laughing behind her. Reveling in the open air, she let the pony run for as long as she liked. Only when she'd slowed, shaking her mane happily, did Poppy turn them purposefully toward Dale.

Feeling the chill deep in her toes, she looked up to the grey sky and agreed with Bard all the more. Snow was on its way, a good, strong snow.

They trotted happily into town, she found Tilda with little trouble. Nearly everyone she passed guessed at her purpose and pointed her in the right direction. Even if Bard was still unsure of being King Bard, he and his children were undoubtedly adored by their people.

The girl hugged her as soon as she slipped down from Moira's back. A smirk on her face, she asked, "Where's Orik?"

"Oh, behind…somewhere. So, tell me of this new man of Siggy's."

Liking nothing so much as to gossip about her big sister, Tilda launched into the details of the older girl's new admirer. If he remained serious, Poppy couldn't help but feel a tad bit sorry for the lad. Bard was intimidating enough all on his own, but Thorin and Dwalin had both grown fond of the bowman's eldest daughter also. So was Gimli for that matter. The boy was going to have an inordinate amount of people to prove his worth to.

They spent a lovely few hours looking after their drowsy winter bees. Both were constantly fascinated by the low hum that came from the hives. According to Beorn's notes, bees fluttered their wings to keep warm through the cold months, huddling together in a great cluster. Neither of them had gotten the courage to open the hives and look, but they were always pressing their ears to the sides to listen.

The sun was beginning to set behind the thick cloud cover when Poppy finally took her leave of Tilda and her father who'd come to talk about the upcoming Yule. With a warm mug of cider to warm her, she felt much better about braving the falling snowflakes outside. They were already piling up on rooves and walls, adding a blanket of white to the town.

Knowing that she'd likely already missed Dáin's arrival, she took her time riding back, spreading her arms and smiling at the snow. Even when she'd had to wait out blizzards in her little badger hole in the Old Forest, she'd always loved snow. It made everything beautiful.

Following a wide track through the snow that was likely as high as Poppy's knees, she and Moira drew up to the gate gratefully. Slipping off the pony, Poppy led her over the narrow moat, "Come on, we'll get you some lovely oats and all will be well."

"Well now, lass, do travelers get accorded the same courtesy?"

Poppy would recognize that booming voice anywhere. Smiling, she found Dáin and his entourage just arrived, too. She must have been but ten minutes behind them and unable to see them through the falling snow. Returning his tight embrace, she nodded, "But of course. I wouldn't have spent my morning making bread if not, you know."

"Nonsense, lass. You hobbits are always baking if I remember correctly. What are ye doing out in the cold on such a day."

Rolling her eyes, she replied as she led Moira to her stall and relieved her of her tack, "Escaping Dwalin's ever-watchful eye."

The volume of his laugh startled a surprised whicker out of Moira and when Poppy turned back to him, he was grinning broadly. "He gave you a bodyguard, didn't he?"

The flat look she gave answered him as well as her exasperated reply, "Aye."

"Aye, that sounds just like Dwalin, the bugger. Now, how would ye like to escort us all to the main hall in proper fashion, oh princess of the mountain."

"If it will keep me out of trouble for running away for the afternoon, gladly." Making to take his arm, she asked with a smile, "Shall we?"

Instead of answering, he merely grabbed her about the waist and swung her up onto his shoulders as he'd done before. "I said proper, lass. For the two of us, this is proper. Come along, lads! We've got their princess; they have no choice but to welcome us now."

Amongst the laughter of Dáin's men and the guards near enough to hear, they started forward.

"So, lass, how's being married…?" His tone clearly said he was asking about one aspect in particular.

Not letting him hear her giggling or see the red of her face, she reached out and rapped harshly on his forehead, "Shut up, Dáin."

His laughter preceded them into the hall.

* * *

Only just keeping his voice as something passable for a whisper, Dwalin demanded, "But where is she?!"

From his uncle's other side where they were waiting to receive Dáin and his men, Fili couldn't help but laugh into his embroidered sleeve. Poppy had been losing Orik at random for weeks and nothing bad ever befell her. He never worried. Not only could she take care of herself, it was in her nature to seek solitude. Though Dwalin didn't, he understood that his wife just needed time to herself on occasion.

Leaning over and whispering lightly in Sindarin, Tauriel noted, " _One would think he was the Meduianna's husband instead of you."_

" _She'd drive him to madness even faster,_ " he replied with a laugh.

The others all looked at them with a measure of confusion—they still weren't used to him speaking the Elves' tongue around them—but soon went back to the assumed disaster at hand.

Gone back to muttering and gesturing angrily in Orik's face in turn, Dwalin quietly raged for a few more moments until Balin said with a smirk, "She's here."

They followed his gaze to see the hobbit in her old position atop Dáin's shoulders, her elbow resting on the top of his head, chin in hand, and the dwarf laughing loudly. By the blush on her face, Fili ventured to guess that his cousin was making some rather bawdy comments. If he knew what was good for him, he'd put them to rest before Dís heard him.

Before anyone could say another word, Dáin reached them and greeted boomingly with open arms, "Cousin!"

After embracing Thorin, he turned to Fili and winked, "Fili, lad, I think you misplaced something."

"Dáin, if you refer to me as a 'thing' one more time, I'm giving Kili your Yule present."

Much to Fili's amusement, the redhead paused before placing her back on the ground and nodding gravely, "Lovely wife, you've got, Fili, lad. Smart of you, marrying all the war heroines."

"Yes, I like to think so. Good to see you, Dáin."

As all the other greetings were exchanged, he whispered in her pointed ear, "You lost him for a whole afternoon. Well done."

"I've been planning for days." Rocking up onto her toes, she kissed him on the cheek before asking with a wide smile, "Can we go out and watch the snow later?"

He'd been waiting for that question ever since they'd been told earlier in the day that the snow was starting to come down. Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he grinned and replied, "Of course."

* * *

A few hours later found Fili up on the topmost battlements, huddled beside a blazing brazier and beneath a heavy wool blanket. Leaning back against his chest, his hobbit was tucked beneath his chin, smiling with almost childlike wonder as they watched the snowflakes come down in the lantern light.

Pressing a kiss to her neck after the guard on his rounds had passed them by, he said quietly, "I used to daydream about this, you know. When we were in Thranduil's prison and I was bored out of my mind, I used to dream about doing this."

Blue eyes flickering in the firelight, she smiled when she looked over her shoulder at him, "Me making you sit out in the snow with me?"

"Aye," he nodded, burying his nose in her hair and tightening his hold on her waist after freeing her braid. "I know you. You love being outside, even during the first true snow of winter."

She gave a happy sort of hum as she settled further back into him. Curling her fingers about one of his forearms, she whispered into the night, "Fili, you make me happy."

Something in his chest that felt decidedly like the lion that was always purring and roaring around her immediately decided that was his greatest accomplishment to date. After a little over a month of marriage in the middle of their first snow, he knew that despite all that she suddenly had to take on, the mountain of people she had to accept as her own, and the titles and responsibilities and sheer amount of culture unfamiliar to her, despite all of that, she was happy.

A worry he hadn't actually acknowledged having suddenly left him. She was happy.

Shifting her head to look at him, she then asked with an unashamed grin in her voice, "What else did you daydream about?"

Mahal above, he really did love being married to her.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, review if the desire takes you, and I hope you enjoyed! Thanks again Fantasylover101. :D


	2. Forges(Ch 91 Deleted Scene)

A/N: Hello there! So, this is a deleted scene from chapter 91(the one where Thorin wakes up & the battling starts) I had sitting in my scraps document. It kind of threw off the flow of the chapter, but I was always sad I had to cut it out. I love some Fili and Thorin time. :)

* * *

Wherever it was that Fili had expected Thorin to go after running from Poppy's broken body with his crown in his hands, he couldn't say that the forges had entered his mind. Frowning as he followed the unmistakable sound of a hammer on metal, he walked into the wide open expanse of the forges with confusion.

Seeing his uncle's broad back rippling with effort as he brought his hammer down, he asked carefully into the otherwise silent space, "What are you doing, uncle?"

He'd seen Thorin smith many times in his life. Not only had their uncle attempted to teach him and Kili, but as he'd gotten older, he'd realized that at his forge was the best place to find Thorin Oakenshield when he didn't want to be found. Thinking back on that, he supposed that it wasn't so strange he'd run to this place as a sanctuary. And sanctuary it was, as Thorin's pain was easily heard in the erratic rhythm that he beat against the anvil. He was usually as steady as a heartbeat.

Bringing him from his thoughts, his uncle's voice asked without turning around, "Are you sure you still want to call me that? Do you still want to claim me as kin after what I've done?"

If he were talking to Kili, he'd try for an attempt at humor. Cheering up his little brother was something he'd perfected over many years of practice. Despite nearly the same amount of experience with his uncle, he'd never quite mastered the skill. His mother was the only one to hold that level of knowledge.

With all his soul, Fili suddenly wished she were there with him…for so many reasons.

Continuing to approach, he answered softly, "Family doesn't work like that, Thorin. I'm fairly sure you told me as much after Kili destroyed my first toy sword."

"This isn't the same."

That logic he couldn't argue with. Coming around the side of the anvil, Fili stood so that he and his uncle were face to face. A short glance with pained eyes was all Thorin gave him before continuing to beat the metal in his tongs flat. Despite the pain in them, the younger dwarf was heartened to see that they were entirely blue now. From where it had been all but screeching in grief, the lion in his chest quieted momentarily before warming in a strange, subtle way.

He had known that he loved Poppy for a long time, at least as far as five months could be considered long in dwarven reckoning. He'd known it with all his being, from the blonde hairs on his head to the tips of his toes. Everything in between lit up and was happier about being alive when she was with him and that feeling only grew the longer she was beside him.

In a way that was incredibly overwhelming, looking up at his uncle's eyes and realizing the lengths she had undertaken to save him, to save all them, he understood a glimpse of how much she loved them all back. It was… humbling, humbling in a way he'd never felt before and would never forget.

Letting out a deep breath before backing up a few steps and sitting on the anvil closest, he watched Thorin hammer away for a few more moments of otherwise silence. During them, he finally comprehended what the nearly flattened, unusable piece of golden metal on the anvil was.

It was his crown. Thorin had just destroyed his own crown, hammered it into a flat disc that could do nothing but be melted down, especially if he didn't stop hammering it in the near future.

Looking up and seeing the shock on his nephew's face, he said simply, "I don't want it… not anymore."

Unsure of what to say, Fili kept silent. He was suddenly reminded of a time his mother had given him advice concerning his uncle long ago after he'd been thoroughly yelled at for the first time. Smiling, she'd explained that when Thorin was angriest was when he was the most afraid, but he'd also never admit it if he thought anyone knew. It was best to just keep quiet and let the silence wring his true feelings out of him. Just like Kili, Thorin couldn't handle silence in company. It made them uncomfortable.

Ten more swings of the hammer sounded through the space before he spoke again, his voice vulnerable in a way Fili had never heard before, "I'd always promised I wouldn't be like him. I promised myself I wouldn't be so weak as to put my people in danger. I'd never put them at risk because my own desires were corrupted… I wouldn't become my grandfather."

Five more had him turning Thror's crown over and beating it from the other side, what few crystals had remained whole shattering beneath the force of his self-loathing.

"Perhaps if Thror had befriended a few hobbits, he wouldn't have fallen as far as he did," Fili suggested, a tiny smile covering his mouth. Though he'd never met his great-grandfather, he could only imagine what Poppy would make of such a serious dwarf.

Pausing mid-swing, Thorin looked over at him with haunted eyes, "She said the same thing to me…in the beginning I think."

No hesitation kept Fili from filling the space with an answer to that. It sounded exactly like something she'd say and he knew why she would have. "Because she believed it. She'd rather just not speak than lie."

"Aye, the number of times she's called me an ass to my face is more than enough proof of that."

Thorin's tone was still grave, wounded, but a small smile tugged at his mouth. It disappeared a moment later, as if he'd become ashamed of himself for allowing the expression when he didn't deserve it. Swinging at his beaten crown with even more fervor than before, he asked between hits, "Why did she have to do this? …Of everything in the world, why did she do this?"

It took Fili more time than he would have liked to reply, but his mind had been furiously asking the same question ever since they had all reached the door to the king's chambers, knowing without seeing what was going on within, exactly what she'd taken it upon herself to do.

Blankly studying the ground below his boots in an attempt to find an answer, he didn't notice the silence that had descended until he looked up to see his uncle staring at him with an expression he knew well. He'd never been given it by Thorin, however, and it made his stomach drop and the lion whine.

It was the look that Kili had sent his way when he'd first chosen the bow and others had laughed at him, when he'd first woken up after the ordeal with Rilla and their first, true broken hearts, when their father had died and his little brother had gotten embarrassed after starting to cry in front of everyone.

It was a look that was begging for some kind of comforting reassurance that he wasn't disappointed, that he was still there and wouldn't leave. It was vulnerability at its most painfully pure and clearly said that with one word, he could send everything crashing down.

As if realizing what he'd unconsciously done, Thorin immediately turned his eyes away and began hammering again. The blonde instinctively knew that if he didn't say something here, if he let those two questions linger, they wouldn't be getting his uncle back, not that night, not when they most needed him.

Sliding down to the floor, Fili crossed the space between him and the dwarf that had been his father in many ways. With a firm grasp, he reached out and grabbed the handle of Thorin's hammer before he could take another swing at what had once been an heirloom of his house.

The surprise on his uncle's face was clear, but he did his best to ignore it as he held the hammer up above them and said softly as a wave of sorrow laced with determination washed over him, "She did it because it was what you needed. For all that she's stubborn and would rather suffer than put someone out or, Mahal forbid, have to ask for help, she's incredibly good at believing in others. She did it because you needed it and because she believed in you, believed that you could come back even if the rest of us didn't. It doesn't sound like much until you have it, but I've never felt anything like her trust, her simple belief. So please, _please_ Uncle, be who you are again."

Averting his eyes, Thorin let go of the hammer and turned away at first, crossing his arms over his chest and looking deep into the furnace's blue and orange flames.

Setting down the tool after getting an awkward hold of it, Fili refused to let his uncle run away again. Blocking his view of the fire, he pressed, "Uncle, _please_ , we need you to be our leader. There are Elves at the door ready to overwhelm us at dawn if we don't do something. You can fix this, Thorin. She gave you the chance, so _fix this_."

He wasn't sure precisely what had gotten through to the other dwarf, but at his last words Thorin's blue eyes snapped up to find his. Despite a lingering darkness deep within them, they were again the ones he knew, the ones that were steady and sharp and glared until his orders were carried out to the letter.

Reaching forward, he pulled his nephew into a short but strong hug with both arms. Releasing him, he immediately turned and made for the exit that led in the direction of the front gate.

"Tell me everything," was his short order, Balin and Dwalin falling in beside them as they walked quickly, and Fili was only too happy to give every bit of information he had. Upon reaching the front gate, the four of them stood as Thorin looked out over the plain with his own eyes for the first time. It was still too early to see anything, darkness heavy upon them, but he stood and faced down the wind nonetheless.

In the distance, thunder began to roll as a few snowflakes fell in the light of their lantern.

Holding out a hand to the unique occurrence of what appeared to be thundersnow, Thorin explained his plan in the concise, slightly demanding way he always did, "If we have a storm, dawn is going to be delayed a few extra hours. That gives us more time. We remain ready to fight if we must. Everyone stays in their armor and with their weapons. Even if I believe in the bargeman's good intentions, I'm not ready to trust the elf entirely. When they come, we'll explain. To make sure they believe us, we show them the gold and silver. We need to start bringing as much of it up here as we can. If he changes his mind, we fight. Get Ori thinking of how to open the gate. Something tells me they'll be more inclined to talk if we're shorter than them once again."

Fighting back a yawn for the first time in recent memory, he added, "Make sure everyone gets a chance for more sleep. If we do have to fight, we're not going to be completely exhausted. Post a guard up here."

With a nod and a smile on his face, Dwalin turned to his task, clearly overjoyed to have not only his leader and friend back but some sort of purpose. A similar expression covering his features, Balin stepped forward and pulled Thorin into a hug, "Welcome back, old friend."

The three of them were walking back down the stairs when Thorin's first grin that he could remember since returning home broke over his face. Keeping his voice light, he asked purposely out of nowhere, "So when are you getting married?"

Had both he and Balin not reached out and grabbed the back of Fili's shirt, the dwarf would've fallen face first down the rest of the stairs, he stumbled so violently at the unexpected question.

Balin cackling beside him making his face go a brighter red, Fili suddenly felt like the nervous wreck of a dwarf he usually was when his uncle asked him questions he didn't want to answer. In a strange way, he reveled in the normality of the feeling despite his embarrassment. Both because it meant his uncle was again himself and because his mind wasn't screaming over his hobbit lying bleeding on the floor in the king's chambers, how he was going to grovel for her forgiveness whenever she woke up, _if_ she woke up, and the impending battle before them all, worry for Kili swirling in his chest at the thought.

The distraction of lighter things, even if they might not make it through the day, was welcome. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he asked, "You noticed her braid then?"

"Briefly, yes."

"Ah…there-there are hobbit things I have to do first. I have to find her flowers, irises…"

Both older dwarves looked at him with surprise and blinking eyes for a long moment before his uncle sighed, "Fili, my sister-son, only you could find the one woman in the world who cannot be bought by sparkly things… Alright, the night has grown short. Oin will find us when he has news. Let us prepare."

The short moment of reprieve broken and the threat of more than just snow hanging above them, they went to their work.

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A/N: Thanks so much for reading, review if the desire takes you, and I hope you enjoyed! See you next week!


	3. A Little Kick (I)

A/N: Okay, so working on original things takes up a lot more time than I thought, lol. I apologize for the long absence. Though it didn't produce as much as I wanted, I sort of dove into November Novel Writing Month and October was filled with trying to figure out what on earth one writes about when it's not already a book/movie/tv show. :)

So, here a little fluffy something, because it's the holidays and fluffiness is the good part of life. :) I've had a number of people ask for something along these lines (Athena Silverwolf, wtrdragon, and Fantasylover101 to name those I have written down), so thanks to all of you and A Little Kick is for you! Though, since I didn't quite get there with this one, I promise there will be more stuff along the lines of children for you guys in the future.

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"All of you do realize that most hobbit women do this, oh, at least five times in their lives. Bracegirdles average around eight or nine, I expect. We survive and we tend to continue working in our gardens the whole time. Pansy Proudfoot gave birth to her fourth child _in_ her garden when I was little."

Glancing up from where he was writing out one of the endless notes and decrees and orders and everything else that was the secret bane of being a king, Thorin smirked fleetingly at the hobbit across from him. His knowledge concerning Bracegirdles was neither here nor there, but over the past nine or so months he'd become intimately acquainted with Poppy's irritation.

He'd lived through Dís carrying a child twice. Poppy wasn't nearly as mean as his sister had been, though with Dís he'd never had to worry about her running away for afternoons and sending what felt like his entire kingdom into a tizzy. She had become Princess Annori of Erebor roughly three years prior and he could say with near certainty that she was one of the great prides of his kingdom.

Keeping his tone light, he shrugged, "Most dwarf women don't have more than two children, so we're not nearly as used to it as you hobbits are, Poppy."

To him, she was still Poppy. Fili, Ori, and a few of the others had taken to calling her Anna and most of their people referred to her as Annori, because what did a dwarf have without formality, but she was still his Poppy. Whenever Dáin visited, she was heralded much to her irritation as his 'troll-crushing lass'. She already bore many names, but the one they were all most scared of was the one she'd be gaining somewhere within the next weeks and months: mother.

Everyone, that was, except her.

"Do you lock _them_ away with a minder at all times and take away all _their_ joys in life just because they had the poor sense to grace you with a child?"

Oh no, Poppy was as sharp and independent as ever. And he wasn't about to tell her that for the most part, pregnant dwarf women _did_ tend to stay in their homes, not venturing so far as the market if not absolutely necessary. Not that it mattered really. Poppy was not a dwarf woman. She heard the song of nature and the outdoors calling to her, not stone or the anvil. It wasn't fair to treat her like she did.

Smiling more fully, Thorin put his pen down and properly looked at her. Her wild hair was in a number of braids wound together down her back. Her bare feet were far cleaner than he expected she preferred where they were propped up on a footstool. Her blue eyes were filled with exasperation that had weeks previously lost its element of affection. He didn't doubt that the only reason she had even somewhat willingly submitted to the heavy-handed overprotectiveness of the Company at large was her complete inability to move at more than a shuffling waddle.

Though the rest of her was tense and cross, her hands appeared perfectly content where they rested on her enormous belly, her fingers occasionally drawing absentminded designs over the stretched fabric.

It was a strange thing indeed to see Poppy pregnant. Even though he'd had so many months to become accustomed to the idea, he still hadn't quite managed.

Given he'd been dealing with himself for years, he was somewhat better equipped to handle her wrathful moods than the others. He'd come to wonder if that's why she'd taken to purposely seeking out his company in his office during the day.

"I thought Orik was carrying a book for you when you came in. Haven't you been reading a lot lately?" he asked, knowing that a flood of frustration was about to vented on him. He hadn't yet gotten over feeling somewhat honored that she'd been picking him to see her at her most sensitive. There was generally a good bit of yelling, but he was still touched.

"I've already read it, so I gave it to Orik. Bifur hasn't gotten the chance to steal me another yet. Ori's seen fit to restrict the stories I'm allowed. Anything that might upset me has been declared potentially unhealthy." She rolled her eyes, "As if _he_ hasn't been giving me enough reasons to be upset."

"Does the toyshop have any orders?"

"Oin took my whittling knife so I wouldn't nick myself and Bofur put all the wood on the top shelf because he knows I can't get up on the stool to reach it anymore. I hid his stupid hat in retaliation." With a sigh, she let her head fall to the back of her hair and her eyes turned to gaze blankly at the ceiling.

"Knitting?" Thorin knew it wasn't her favorite pastime, but it had to be better than nothing. He also couldn't come up with a reason for anyone to forbid it for the sake of her health.

"It's not safe for me to be constantly bending over to fix my yarn ball. Or so Dori says. Kili's stolen all my yarn, because he's an ungrateful, thieving little…little _pissant_!"

Her face flipped from angry almost instantly to fighting tears. "I can't go riding. I can't go see my bees. Tilda and everyone has to come see _me_ and they're too busy and I don't blame them. They won't let me _bake_ because Mahal forbid I do _anything_ that requires more effort than walking to the washroom. I _hate_ being pregnant and I still have another _month_ of this!"

Pushing aside his report concerning shoring up mining tunnels, Thorin stood and was instantly at her side and she was sobbing violently into his shirt. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head and rubbing her back, he soothed, "They mean well. Really, they do. It's the father's job to worry. You women are the ones who know what you're doing."

She laughed weakly at that, "If this child has that many fathers, then I've very much missed something."

"Who said I was talking about the babe's father?" he replied with a smile. "Most of them have never even been close to being married, let alone around a woman with child. And you're the most precious woman they have, either a sister or a daughter."

Blinking, she wiped her eyes with a sigh, "Well, if I could chase them down and reach, I'd already have wrung most of their necks."

He supposed he couldn't blame her for that. Though some of them were more guilty of it than others—Dori, Oin despite his medical knowledge, Kili, and Ori namely—they had all been a little crowding and she was a spirit who needed more space than most.

Fili was about the only one she let by without a fight, because she still found his doting adorable instead of annoying. To his credit, the lad did just that: he _doted._ Instead of telling her which books to read, he was offering to bring back a dozen so she needn't get out from her comfortable chair and bringing pastries from the kitchen on the way back because he knew she loved the honeyed sweet rolls Miri made. He was gone on his Mirkwood trip and the others had gone a little overboard without his toes around to be stepped on.

Bifur had also escaped her wrath. He was her foremost smuggler of contraband items, so Thorin was unsurprised. The warrior had decided months past, before she'd even started showing, that fighting the others would come to naught, so he'd turned into her own personal black-market.

Dwarves carried their children somewhat longer than hobbits did, it turned out, so no one was quite sure how long she'd remain pregnant. Dwobbits, as Fili had long ago dubbed their future children, were a thing unknown. No amount of Ori's research nor Oin's or any other healer's expertise could provide the answers that time would reveal in due course.

Perhaps he should have words with some of the others... He well remembered from Dís's time being with child that it came with enough of its own burdens, especially towards the end. Besides, it was supposed to be a happy time, filled with hope and love that only came from brand new life in the world.

When she resignedly let her forehead sink down to his shoulder, he pressed another kiss to her head. Sighing again, she suggested with an edge of desperation, "You're the king. Can't you make a proclamation or edict or _something_ to get them to realize I'm pregnant, not an invalid. I can still be _useful_."

"Well," he'd been thinking more along the lines of calling a Company dinner and having words with them, but he supposed a proclamation would work, too, and the idea seemed to please her if nothing else, "I don't see why not. Here, come on. I'll start writing up those and you can take over writing my monthly correspondence to Dáin—be nice. It's an official letter."

Huffing with a smile, she rolled her eyes, "Fine."

She was clearly pleased, however, when he held out an arm for her to grasp and then helped ease her to her feet. She was finally starting to weigh what a dwarf of her size would and it was fundamentally strange. It took a few minutes to get her settled into his large chair behind his even larger desk, but while he fetched one of the simple wooden ones he kept along the side of the room, he heard her laugh, "I quite like this. Why haven't I been hiding in your office this entire time?"

He merely grinned back at her and they both proceeded to take up their pens and set ink to paper. They remained in relative silence but for her occasional question of what precisely he wanted Dáin to be told, until she began humming. Looking up from the official but gentle letter being sent to Dori concerning his behavior towards the pregnant but not crippled Princess Annori of Erebor, Thorin watched as she just kept on writing, her free hand resting on her belly again.

Fili said she did that when content and busy. Bombur and Miri had seconded the observation many times over and whenever they discussed it, Bifur smiled in a way that said he agreed. He found himself doing the same.

He had just pressed his seal to the last of his proclamations—the one going to Kili—and had risen to call in one of his couriers to deliver them, when her humming stopped and Poppy froze in her seat.

He was just about to demand what was wrong and then go into something of a panic, when a smile stretched across her face. Any and all frustration was gone from her eyes and replaced with pure amazement. Gesturing to him with her free hand, she breathed, "Thorin! Thorin, come here!"

As soon as he was close enough, she snatched his hand and pressed it to her belly. Open-mouthed, he stared at her for a long moment, because dwarves did not just take other dwarves' hands and press them to their stomachs, when he felt a light but purely incredible flutter come from underneath.

Eyes wide, they shot up to hers and her smile was shining even brighter. "He's kicking. The _laes_ is kicking. He's never moved quite like this before. It's usually lighter."

All Thorin could manage to say because his ability to breathe was completely gone was a whispered, " _By Mahal_ …"

He'd never felt Fili or Kili kick before they'd been born. It hadn't really been his right. At the time, he was only their uncle, not even the attempt at a surrogate father he'd become. But there Poppy was sharing this with him. It probably helped that he was actually there to share in it, but still… He didn't even have words, for her sharing it with him or for what he'd just felt. He…He just didn't.

Never in the course of his life, since Smaug's attack so long ago, since he went into exile, since he started the quest, and even since they'd finished it triumphant did he ever imagine that he would be one to witness a babe's first kick. It had just never been part of the life he'd carved out for himself and he hadn't even thought to miss its presence. But now...he would _never_ forget what it felt like for the rest of his days.

A smile likely larger than he'd ever sported in his life spread across his face and it seemed impossible that it could ever dim. Until the babe quieted, he and Poppy just stared at one another, grinning broadly.

Slowly retracting his hand, he blinked in wonder at her belly for a few more minutes. Finally catching himself, he held out an arm for her, "Do you want to deliver these to the couriers with me?"

He could always just send for them, but the walk would do them both good.

She answered him with a look that made him chuckle and feel slightly more himself. With some further pulling and chair moving, they were both upright and making for the door with the letters under Thorin's arm. He had yet to retract his other arm from where Poppy had grabbed and used it to pull herself up and she had yet to let go, so he kept it where it was.

See, he thought to himself with amusement, if one didn't shove it in her face, Poppy was perfectly willing to accept a little help and doting.

"You said 'he'. Do you think it's a boy?" he asked as they stepped through the door and acquired Orik.

"Oh, I have no idea," she replied. "I've just been trying out both so I'm prepared either way."

"Are you scared?"

Her fingers tightened about his arm and she nodded faintly and whispered something he imagined she hadn't told anyone but Fili, "Bloody terrified…but in a good way."

He chose to steer away from that subject and further asked, "Have you two thought of names?"

"Oh, of course," she said with a bright smile. "If it's a girl, she'll be Lindri after Lindriel and because Fili wants to keep with the I's."

"And if it's a boy?"

Again she squeezed his arm, but this time she leaned against him and when he looked down he saw a bright smile on her face. "That's a surprise."

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A/N(again): Thanks for reading everybody, review if the desire takes you, and I hope you enjoyed! :) I'm going to try for another one before Christmas! I hope you all have a wonderful countdown to Christmas/whatever wintertime holiday makes your December festive.


	4. A Little Secret (II)

A/N: Merry almost-Christmas to everyone! I hope you're all having a wonderful December. So, I got a great response to the last chapter and the muse sort of descended. That one, this one, and probably one more all go together. I'll put little numerals in the chapter names so it's a little clearer that they're a set.

On that note, A Little Secret is for TheEarthSong who wanted to see Bifur, Bofur, and some Fili (may her knee surgery treat her well!) and Fantasylover101 who wanted Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin being bros. :)

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No matter how many times he asked or how subtly he attempted to phrase the question, Thorin had yet to get the name Poppy and Fili had planned for their child were it a son. They'd already stopped by the couriers and the somewhat joking but really entirely serious proclamations going to the overbearing Company members were away. Anticipating something of a stampede of his friends bursting into his office, Thorin had made the executive decision to simply be done for the day.

Part of his kingly duty was spending time with the other members of his house and Poppy could use the company.

Besides, he could always just get the few truly pressing things finished during dinner that night. No matter how stern his sister was, Dís was not allowed to forbid him from doing _his_ paperwork at _his_ dinner table. He still held onto that much of his independence.

"Is it a secret from all the others or are you just being mean to me in particular?"

Poppy laughed, "If you'd like someone to blame, look at your nephew. Fili is the one who wanted it to be a surprise if it's a boy. I just haven't argued the point. Oh, but Kili has no idea if that makes you feel any better. Though, that's _me_ being mean to him. For one, he couldn't keep the secret, and for two, I just enjoy getting back at his orneriness."

They walked a ways farther in amiable silence, neither one of them really leading but both somehow knowing where they were going.

They weren't alone—Orik and two of his personal guards followed along behind—because Mahal forbid there not be a guard about. Dwalin and his cursed job efficiency. Regardless, the pathways above the main market hall were good ones to walk.

With roughly three years to rebuild and a populace of very determined dwarves, the halls about them were back to their original splendor. There was just enough different for Thorin to notice as he'd grown up amongst the originals, but somehow he preferred the new. They were brighter, prouder, but not because they held more gold.

His people had done this. They had risen from the ashes and rubble and remade that which was taken from them. And, somehow he'd managed to lead them through it. Despite his less than stellar start as king, this he could and would always be proud of. Those years ago in Bree when he'd met Gandalf and the wizard had shared his desire to retake Erebor, he honestly never thought he'd end up where he was.

A little corner of his mind had always believed he'd die before the end, that he'd never quite make it home, let alone be a king and a friend and a great-uncle who got to feel a babe's first big kick. He supposed he had two hobbits to thank for proving all his fears false.

"You've your Gandalf face on. What are you thinking about so hard?" The fond smile on her face narrowed into a momentary glare as she added, "And don't you _dare_ say nothing."

After the whole Ent water, Old Forest, extended life business that the wizard had seen fit to keep to himself, Poppy didn't really take to evasive answers well. She was a bit quicker to anger in the past months, but replying with 'oh nothing' or 'you needn't concern yourself, princess' was a sure way to get verbally beaten about the head by multiple languages. In all honesty, it made her rather invaluable in meetings with any reticent participants. She found being his secret meeting weapon rather amusing.

Answering before her temper could catch, he shrugged, "Just that we've come a long way from invading Bilbo's pantry and speaking of dragons and burglars around his poor, overburdened dining table."

She might've said something in response to that, but a loud voice they both knew well shattered the low, comforting hum of activity in the space.

"Oi! What is this?!"

As a dirt-covered, out-of-breath Bofur with a large, official-looking parchment in his hand stomped toward them, the tips of his hat bouncing with each step, Thorin leaned down and whispered, "Do you want to take this or should I?"

Bifur was following behind his cousin, laughing in his silent way so hard that he had to lean against the wall for support. It appeared Bofur had received his directive.

Perfectly mischievous smile on her face, Poppy replied, "Oh, I will."

Stepping forward with her arms crossed over her belly, she greeted, "Bofur, friend, what can Thorin and I do for you today?"

"What is this?!"

"That, I believe," she said with effortless aplomb, "is an official directive requiring you to stop being an overbearing pissant where your pregnant but not invalid friend is concerned. I imagine the language is quite easy to understand. Thorin is good at those sorts of things."

Smirking inwardly when he heard a laugh from one of their guards quickly turned into a cough, he added helpfully, "I believe I used the word friend not pissant, but yes, that's the gist of it."

Apparently she was rather fond of that word today.

Bofur's eyes had gone wide with what was likely a mixture of confused hurt and amusement because his sense of humor couldn't ignore what was happening to him.

Seeing Balin weaving his way through the market below on a path toward his house, Thorin decided it was likely time to bow out. Bofur didn't need an audience of friends when dealing with Poppy's grievances, let alone one with a few guards he'd never said more than a hello and perhaps told a story to—with Bofur that was over half the mountain and probably most of Dale. He was popular with the children of Dale, Tilda foremost among them.

"I shall take my leave. Poppy, I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you…for today." He stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. Sidling over to Bofur, he muttered quietly, "Instead of hiding the stool to keep her from working, just grab her the wood, get her whittling knife back from Oin, and help her when she asks. Trust me."

He nodded and gave a smirk to a still huffing Bifur before starting down the stairs. He hadn't visited Balin at home in a while.

As Thorin disappeared down the stairs, his guards following after him, Bofur gaped at Poppy, for once without words. Her arms had risen from resting on her belly to crossed angrily over her chest the longer he stared. Rolling her eyes, she demanded, "Well don't just stare at me like a simpleton! Say something!"

He blinked at her a few more times before noting simply, "You're angry at me."

"Of course I'm angry at you! I've been angry at you for weeks."

"But—"

Throwing her hands in the air, she let out a noise of frustration. "No! No buts. I'm pregnant, not helpless and, so help me Mahal, you're all going to realize it! Do I make myself clear?"

Bofur's voice finally returned to him, his humor tagging right along with it. He'd never been the type to be around anger for long, whether it was coming from him or directed at him. Besides, he supposed the lass did have a point. Without Thorin, he wouldn't have had a clue as to what she was shouting about, but with some context, he had been a bit of a…overbearing pissant.

"Alright, lass. I'm sorry." Cracking a grin, he asked, "Will I be needing to pen up an official letter of apology now?"

There were a few moments of pause before she shook her head. What he realized was the first genuine smile she'd shined his way in weeks blazed up at him before she laughed, "No, but you're welcome to convince Kili to write one."

Stepping forward and taking her arm at the same time Bifur did, knowing she wouldn't mind if he got a little dirt on her, Bofur smirked, "Oh, he got one too, did he?"

"Almost _all_ of you did," she deadpanned back. "You're _all_ bordering on impossible."

"You've known that from the beginning, lass. There's no reason for us to change our ways now. Have you eaten supper yet? I'm starving. Oh, do you want to hear about the best thing that happened down in the mines today? It's wonderful. You have to hear it."

As he started in on his tale, Poppy and Bifur exchanged smiles. One down, most of a Company to go, she supposed.

They'd reached the bottom of the stairs and were turning toward the royal kitchens where Bombur and Miri would feed them without question when Poppy felt it again.

Grabbing both the arms twined with hers, she quickly pressed her friends' hands to her belly. "She's very excited today. She kicked for Thorin earlier. I wonder if she'll like running or something."

Much as Thorin had, the two dwarves stared at her stomach with wide eyes, neither daring to so much as breathe until the sensation beneath their fingers ended.

Laughing at Bofur's expression, Poppy noted wryly, " _See_ , she's not some fragile egg. She's not going to just shatter at any moment that I'm not in a chair."

His voice fled for the second time in less than an hour, Bofur couldn't come up with words. He was just caught looking from his hand to her stomach and back. She wondered if she could convince the babe to do this for each of these fights she was bound to have… Given her father was Fili, she doubted her child would mind being a bit of a diplomat.

He was due back that either that evening or the next morning. She couldn't wait for him to feel his son or daughter move.

Bright, warm smile on his face, Bifur wrapped his hobbit in a hug. Pressing a kiss to the side of her head, he started them on their way again. Arm still about her shoulder, he grinned again, " _The babe is half you and half Fili. She doesn't have it in her blood to be anything but stubborn._ "

Line

It was late, far too late to go back to his office and finish the paperwork looming over his crowned head, but Thorin couldn't find it in him to care. All of that could be gotten to in the morning. He had no doubt that the few steins of ale and the cloud of pipe smoke had something to do with that, but he didn't mind.

Spending some time with Balin and Dwalin—his guards sitting out on the front step with their own pipes—with no crowns, no official business, and no advisors was worth it. He was the king. He was allowed to occasionally shirk his work and spend time with his friends. At some point before the morning, he'd come up with a convincing reason for why before Dís found him.

Dwalin had arrived not long after he had and an impromptu evening not at all like one of their much younger days had ensued. No pubs were visited. No songs were sung. No women were smiled at. Instead, they simply sat about the fire with each other, drinking and smoking and laughing at stories of when they had done all those things.

Dwalin's letter of warning concerning his behavior toward Poppy had also come up. Balin had laughed himself breathless for a good five minutes at the story and beamed proudly that he hadn't gotten one. They were past the topic but Poppy, Fili, and what he'd felt that day was still floating about in his ale-calmed mind when he heard himself ask.

"Do either of you know what Fili and Poppy are naming their babe if it's a boy?"

Glancing up out of his ale, Thorin knew the answer to that, but the look his two oldest friends exchanged confirmed it even further. Dwalin kept his face mostly impassive but Balin couldn't withhold a sparkling grin.

"Aye," the elder brother answered, "but we can't say. We've been promised to secrecy."

Thorin raised an eyebrow, "Even from your king?"

"I'm more afraid of Poppy than you, Thorin," Dwalin snorted. Immediately afterward, he added, "Don't mention that to her, though. The lass will finally convince me to reassign Orik."

"Does it have something to do with me? The name, I mean. If it does, you need to convince them to change their minds." When both Balin and Dwalin stared at him with confused, somewhat disbelieving eyes, he pressed, "It shouldn't have to do with me. Their babe deserves a name without so much history tied to it. Besides, Fili is the father. He should pass on his own name. And Poppy has no reason to want mine."

"Of course she does," Dwalin interrupted rather harshly, releasing an angry puff of smoke ceiling-ward. "She's every reason and every right if she wants to. You're not the father she got, but you're the father and friend that she found when she needed it. She can name her babe after you if she damn well pleases."

Balin didn't add anything to that, but he did sort of nod in agreement.

Thorin was still in the midst of coming up with reasons why that was false, when Balin's front door banged loudly open. All three of them were instinctively on their feet before they properly saw who it was. Frowning, Thorin demanded once he recognized the head of blonde hair in the doorway, "Fili, what by Mahal are you doing here? Why aren't you with Poppy?"

Panting as if he'd just run straight from Mirkwood, Fili closed the space and promptly hugged his uncle. Stepping back at arms' length he veritably shouted, "I was just there. Anna said you felt it-him-her kick! You felt my baby kick!"

The darker haired dwarf blinked a few times. Fili was animated, but was panting too hard to tell precisely how he felt about that… Unsure, he nodded, "Aye, I'm sorry. Poppy was hiding in my office and she just grabbed my hand and there it was. I'm sorry you didn't—"

"No, I'm not angry that you felt it first." A wide grin had spread over Fili's face and what had to be excited tears were starting to gather in his eyes. "Just…Just tell me what it was like. Anna tried, but it's different because she feels it all the time. It's _in_ her. But you felt it."

He pulled his uncle into another hug and whispered, "Uncle, you felt my _child_ move."

There was an awe in his voice that clearly said he couldn't believe it and repeating it was the only way to convince himself it was true. Smiling in return, Thorin decided he wouldn't mind a bit of convincing himself. As it happened, he was the one who'd have to give it.

"Do you remember when you and Kili would catch butterflies and crickets and fireflies when you were little? They would jump and flutter against the inside of your hands trying to get out. It felt like that, like a butterfly trying to escape."

Mahal save him, he was becoming poetic.

"You felt my child move. I'm going to be a father…" The awe had turned into something closer to shock.

"Balin, I think we need another ale." Holding in the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape as Dwalin snorted in the background and Balin coughed suspiciously, Thorin settled on only a gentle smile as he handed his nephew his nearly empty cup to hold him over. "Yes. Yes, you are, my sister-son. And you're going to be wonderful at it."

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, review if you wish, and I hope you enjoyed! More before Christmas if I'm industrious, but more before New Year's Eve I promise! Lovely holidays to everyone.


	5. A Little Wait (III)

Happy New Year's Eve, everyone (or Day, wherever you might be in the world)! As promised, here's one last little tidbit for the year. My timezone still has eight-ish hours until the year is officially over, but I'm thinking this will carry me over the edge in a good mood regardless. :)

A Little Wait is for MIA who wanted to know how Thori came into the world. People have been asking for more Fili, also, so here he is.

Thanks so much for reading, review if the desire takes you, and I hope you all enjoy! May a lovely 2016 await you. :)

* * *

Fili hadn't wanted to go do his work that day. Somehow, he'd known. The moment he woke up that morning far too early, he'd known. It was going to be the day.

Only Anna's good-natured shoving had gotten him out the door. It'll be fine, she'd said. I'm going to sleep in, she said. Even if something happens you're only fifteen minutes away, she'd said. Less than that if you run, which you will.

Which he did.

As if his life depended on it and there were wargs behind him, he sprinted down corridors, past people, and up stairs. For the love of Mahal, _why_ did they have so many stairs?! He pitied the couriers, because it really was ridiculous. Bilbo had complained about how large and tall everything was under the mountain and he could see why.

He thoughts were distracted and not at all about what they should be. But the harder he tried to focus as he ran, the more they spun off in the wrong directions. He'd never admit it aloud, but it was because he was afraid. Scared. Ruddy terrified.

Mahal save him, his child was being born.

At that very moment. Well, perhaps not right _that_ second, but it had started. He was right. He'd known. It was going to be that day. Just a few weeks after Yule, their child was going to be born.

Quite suddenly he lost the ability to breathe, which proved incredibly ill-advised when running.

Somewhat worse for wear, he made it to his front door and found it thrown wide open. Even though he was a prince, the Heir of Erebor, and Anna was his princess, their home was better described as cozy than extravagant. It was a stone hobbit hole rather than dwarven mansion. As such, the eight people crowding into the foyer were a tight fit.

Fili wanted to know how _eight_ of the Company members had gotten there before he did!

Balin was right down the street, though he should've been at work. Ori he understood, because he usually came and had morning tea with his adopted sister. When he was around, Bifur had basically attached himself to her side, so he understood that, too. And he supposed Bombur had come along with Miri. But where had Nori, Bofur, Oin, and Dwalin come from? The woodwork?!

The clamor that had filled the space immediately fell to a hush when he started shoving his way through. His mother was in the doorway, barring further entry. Upon turning her eyes upon him, she smiled, "There. _Now_ , the lot of you can come in. And no Oin, that doesn't mean she's changed her mind. Her exact words, I believe, were 'Is he a boy? Yes. Then he's not coming in here!'."

The old healer grumbled darkly under his breath, but didn't raise any further fuss. Anna had just about broken his heart two weeks before when she'd banned him from tending to her during the birth. She was keeping a strict 'no boys allowed' policy. Apparently for hobbits, childbirth involved only female relatives and friends. The men were all but kicked out of the house until the work was done. The closest the Company was allowed was the living room, much to their collective annoyance.

Miri and Dís had both readily agreed to be there, along with the best midwife the latter could find.

For a moment, no one moved. Gentle smile on her face, his mother gestured him forward, "Come on. Go and see her. It's still early and I know she wants to see you."

Still caught somewhere between too excited for words and in shock, he mutely nodded and started for the stairs. Grabbing his arm, Dís added with something closer to a grin, "If she says something along the lines of it's all your fault and she's never forgiving you, don't worry. It's normal."

That brought some laughter out of the others and the tightness in his chest loosened somewhat.

As he took the stairs two at a time, he heard the rest shuffling into the living room, likely claiming spots for themselves as they settled in to wait. If nothing else, Fili was grateful he wasn't going to be waiting alone. The other four would probably be there before he came back downstairs.

He had a family, such a big, not technically related, loud, and wonderful family. And it was about to get bigger. He was going to be a father.

The tugging match his emotions were having was finally won by excitement and when he pulled open the door to their bedroom, his face already hurt from smiling so hard.

One to match shone back at him as he stepped inside. Answering his question before he could ask it, Anna said, "Yes, I'm supposed to be walking around. It helps move things along quicker or…something."

Hands braced on her back, she beamed up at him from across the room. He could see some fear in her blue eyes, too, but she was hiding it or, knowing her, deciding it simply wasn't important enough to bother with. His feet crossed the space between them and he was kissing his wife, ignoring the midwife near the fireplace.

His wonderful, funny, independent, beautiful wife who was about to give him a child.

Part of him noted that he really was off kilter today, because usually he managed complete sentences when it came to his thoughts. There usually weren't quite so many adjectives, either.

Her hands came forward to touch his chest, fingers digging into his shirt. A small sigh escaped as she kissed him back and he heard all of her own fears in it. Given that she was about to literally bring life into the world, his suddenly seemed rather pale in comparison. Pulling away and grinning at her, he noted, "I don't know why I'm so worried. You're the one who has to do all the work."

"Oh, I'm not so sure of that," she smiled back, almost visibly grasping his light mood. "You're the one who has to deal with all of them downstairs. I've just got Dís, Miri, the midwife, and whoever this decides to be."

She rubbed a hand over her belly before sending a smirk up at him. "Your crowd's much bigger."

He swiftly kissed her again, running a thumb over the scar on her cheek for a moment. He let out a deep breath, "Mahal help us, we're about to be parents."

"If you're going to be asking for his help," she laughed, "send a thought to his wife from me. Yavanna has to know my life: a woman who loves nature married to a dwarf who's forever building something. Maybe she has advice."

He snorted softly, "You love being married to me almost as much as you love me."

"Perhaps not after today."

"Mother said such words were normal. I'm not to believe them."

Anna laughed again, though halfway through her face contorted and her breath caught. She let out a slow exhale after a moment, "Ow. That was worse than the others."

Glancing up at him, she smiled at his look of panic, "It's fine. That's how we know she or he is coming."

From where she sat off to the side, the midwife called matter-of-factly, "This is why you men get sent off to be warriors. Our battles are much harder."

"I like her," Anna whispered conspiratorially. Turning about, she asked quietly, "Will you braid my hair back for me?"

"Of course."

They were mostly quiet as he started threading his fingers into her hair, pulling it back into a strong, simple braid that would stay out of her way. It was happening. Mahal, it was finally happening. A seemingly experienced but kind woman, the midwife filled the silence with encouraging thoughts and what they needn't worry about.

Far too quickly, his mother entered the room, Miri right behind. Small smile on his face, Fili rested his chin on Anna's shoulder and asked, "Do I really have to leave?"

Craning her neck, she kissed him again and nodded, "Yes. But you get to come right back when everything's done."

"The very minute."

"Yes," she laughed, poking his nose with hers. "Don't let Kili break anything down there."

Her smile was interrupted by pain again and he pressed a final kiss to her temple. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now get going." She gave him a playful, loving shove toward the door. "I have a baby to deliver."

He dragged his feet just to make her laugh, but soon enough he'd reached the door and his mother ready to close it behind him. With a quick squeeze of his arm, she whispered, "We'll be fine, Fili. I'll take good care of her."

And then the door was shut and suddenly all there was to do was wait.

He wasn't sure he could handle waiting.

Across from the bedroom door, pipe out and sitting in a chair pulled up from the kitchen, Bifur was already quite comfortable. Living room restrictions meant nothing to him. There was little chance of any of the women inside that room getting him to move, should they even care. He nodded in Fili's direction before going back to the small block of wood in his hands. The blonde didn't have to ask to know it was going to be a toy for the baby. One of probably dozens already carved.

"What's it going to be?"

Grunting, Bifur held it up. " _A bear. Beorn called her a cub once. I thought her cub would need a bear._ "

With a smile that the old warrior returned, Fili continued down the stairs. He stepped into his living room to a great cheer. Kili, Thorin, Gloin, and Dori had all arrived and his brother pulled him into a tight hug. Wry grin on his face, he asked, "You ready, big brother?"

He smiled in reply, "Probably not."

Things devolved into a lull after that. Bofur and Kili did their best to keep them laughing with various stories. Gloin was poked and prodded until he gave the story of the day Gimli was born. His son was going to join them as soon as his turn at the gate was over. Balin and Dwalin took up mantles of doorwardens. Word had spread that the princess had gone into labor and dwarves from everything under the mountain wanted to be on hand to receive news of their heir.

Aside the shifting crowd outside his front door, it was a fine, joyful gathering that Fili didn't pay the slightest bit of attention to. Thorin sat beside him, occasionally pushing a mug of water into his hands, but other than that they left him to his daze. Hours passed that he didn't take any note of.

It wasn't bad until she started screaming. Everything from his head down to his toes tensed when the first shriek met his ears. The laughter around him from one of Bofur's many stories died almost immediately. As one, the Company fell silent and all eyes went toward the stairs.

It made Fili feel slightly better that he wasn't the only one desperately fighting the urge to sprint up those stairs and do whatever he could to make that sound stop. Anna screaming was the worst sound in all of Middle-earth and each of them knew it.

It was still restlessly quiet when her muffled voice came down the stairwell.

"I can _feel_ all of you worrying down there! Might I remind you that I once _literally_ fell off a mountain and then saved all of your lives a few hours later! Bofur, start being funny again!"

Though without his previous gusto, the storyteller did as she asked and the worst of the dark mood was broken.

When Fili looked down to see that the cup in his hand was cracked because he'd been squeezing it so hard, he pushed himself to his feet. The others let him be as he started pacing, worrying his lip and chewing on the skin beside his thumb in turn, neither of which were bad habits he'd ever had before.

He had no doubt that the little line Anna was forever mentioning was dug in deeply between his eyebrows.

It was alright. Women did this all the time. They were literally _made_ to do this. And besides, it was Anna. She could do anything. As ridiculous as it sounded, he'd made the realization long ago. There was nothing in the world she lived in she couldn't do if she decided to do it. It was part of the reason he loved her so much.

Again appearing at his side, Thorin brought him to a momentary halt and handed him a fresh mug of water. Squeezing his shoulder, he waited until Fili actually met his eyes. Smiling slightly, he reassured, "She's going to be alright. The babe is going to be alright. Everyone will be alright."

There was nothing in his uncle's tone that told him to stop worrying or that he was being ridiculous. It was just simple assurance, the saying aloud of something he needed to hear. And Mahal, did he need to hear it. He managed something that probably resembled a grateful smile and nodded before returning to his pacing.

He started squeezing the cup rather than chewing on his thumbs.

Vaguely, he noted the others eating at one point. Bombur must have cooked something. He was too preoccupied to look to a clock to see precisely how long it had been. It could have been two hours or ten…though it was probably closer to the ten.

He was still pacing, having nearly tripped over the rug nearly half a dozen times, before a new sort of scream filled the house. He froze dead in his tracks as the others all jumped to their feet, cheers rising from their throats. He dropped his cup to the floor as Kili flung himself at his brother in another hug.

By the time he had been pushed toward the stairs, a smile had overtaken his features.

It had happened. It was real. It…he…or she was real…and she was _here_.

His mother was at the door when he reached the top step, a smile on her face, arms crossed, and eyebrow raised at Bifur's post. The old warrior completely ignored it, instead searching for any clues as to the babe inside.

"No, Fili will be the first to know," she said primly before Bifur had even voiced the question. Smiling widely at her son when her eyes turned to him, she said quietly, "Everything went fine. Just give her a little while to clean up. She's had a rough day. The first one is always the hardest."

Grin still stretched across his face, he waited on bouncing feet.

From below, someone shouted, "What's taking so bloody long?! I have a bet to collect on!"

Frown descending on her face like an oncoming winter storm, Dís looked over Fili's shoulder and shouted fiercely enough to make ears rings, "Kili of the Line of Durin, you hush your mouth right now! Your niece or nephew was just born and your gambling can wait!"

Fili's grin widened. Nearly ninety or not, it was always a rare treat to hear Kili be yelled at by their mother without him involved.

Soon after, Miri peeked her head out the door. A wide smile that was becoming the norm for the group was on her face, and she motioned him forward with one finger to her lips, "Come along. But be quiet, she just got done feeding and Poppy's dropped off to sleep, poor thing."

It was incredibly warm in the room, the fire blazing, and sheets and towels were strewn about in disarray. He tried not to think about the blood on some of them. With a warm smile, the midwife nodded to him before starting to clear them away.

Fili only distractedly nodded in return, because his entire line of sight was taken up with the bright pink, tiny being wrapped up in a green blanket, sitting in a basket beside the bed.

In a show of affection somewhat unlike her, Dís wrapped her arms about his shoulders and pressed a kiss to her eldest's temple, "Congratulations, Fili. Say hello to your son."

Before he could manage to say anything, Miri had handed him the bundle and the babe was staring up at him with wide, unfocused eyes.

He had a son. _They_ had a son. A son named Thori after his uncle with his mother's blue eyes and freckles, his father's blonde hair and dwarf feet. That lion in his chest started purring so deeply that he thought he might collapse to the floor or start to cry or something equally intense.

Pulling back the blanket with a smile, Miri pointed to the side of Thori's head and said with a voice he could only describe as a squee, "Look at his wee pointed ears. I think they're my favorite part of him. They're so cute and hobbity."

He looked toward the bed and saw the source of those hobbity ears, clearly exhausted and fast asleep. Readjusting his hold of his son, he went over to Anna and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Blinking blearily, she asked with a faint smile, "Will he do?"

"Of course. He's..." his adjectives finally failed him and he could only trail off before adding with a grin, "You should bring life into the world more often. You're good at it."

Snorting softly, she shook her head, "Not _too_ often. I think I'll focus on plants and ponies for at least a few months."

"Whatever you want, Anna. Go back to sleep. I think you've earned it after your battle."

Nodding against the pillow, she requested, "Just come back when you're done introducing him. And leave the door open. I want to see what Thorin does when you tell him."

Smiling down at her, he backed away from the bed, still somewhat unsure of the bundle in his arms. Miri opened the door for him and a whoosh of hot air escaped into the crowded hallway. Twelve sets of eyes stared back at him as he emerged, turning to the side slightly so Anna could see.

"Well, my friends, Anna and I would like you to meet our son."

As a cheer went up and Bifur bypassed the baby in favor of going to the hobbit inside the room, he propped his son up for them all to see. Seemingly unsure about what to do when confronted with such noise so early in his life, the Dwobbit began to cry.

Once Fili had him somewhat calmed again, Balin asked with a great, stupid grin that was shared by every single dwarf but Kili and Thorin, "What'll you call him, lad?"

"We're going to call him Thori, after his beloved, stubborn great-uncle."

Whereas Fili had managed to avoid it moments earlier, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain promptly began to cry tears he failed to blink away.

From inside the room, Anna called while Bifur helped her sit up, "Thorin, come here and hug me before you make me cry."

* * *

Even later into the night after everyone else had gone home but for Dís and Bifur who had appointed themselves the new parents' live-in helpers, Fili sat in bed, staring at his new son.

Anna was curled up beside him, taking her well-earned rest that the Company's earlier celebrations had cut short. With how she smiled and laughed through all the praise given to her, he didn't think she minded. Her nose had long ago twitched and she was fully asleep now. No matter the protests she'd given, she was a new sort of beautiful, one he didn't quite have words for, but it suited her.

The awe and wonder would likely fade somewhat once the shock wore off and the reality of a newborn set in, but not yet. He couldn't decide which was more incredible, that his hobbit had just given birth to this new, wonderful bundle of life or that he was holding that new life in his arms and he was making little noises in his sleep.

Never before had Fili of the Line of Durin been so thankful that a chocolate-haired hobbit who woke up every night to sit watch with him had taken everything he thought he wanted in life—retaking Erebor, going _home_ , being a king and a warrior others were proud of and respected—and promptly made it akin to looking forward to dinner, because instead he could have _her_. He could be happy with _her_ and live through everything that came with it.

Thori had come with it and some part of him still couldn't believe it.


	6. Dwalin's Irony

A/N: Well hello there. So, I've been gone forever. Apologies. I've been working on original things (dragons and blacksmiths and ice kingdoms, oh my!) and I've been a little tunnel-visioned for the last six months or so. However, I got a lovely review on Follow On last night that rather kicked me in the inspiration (thank you so much, Guest. I'm glad you're enjoying it just as much the second time around :D). I think I'll try getting back into, if not an appendice a week, then perhaps at least one a month. I almost forgot how much I like writing in this world. :)

Anywho, Dwalin's Irony is for BCgurlie and wtrdragon who wanted some more things with children and Thorin babysitting. If anyone else asked for children things, too, here's one of probably many more for you.

* * *

 _Summer, S.R. 1349_

"And what, precisely, do you think you're up to?"

Rather curly, blonde hair falling into his eyes, Thori cringed and wrinkled his nose in disappointment. He'd been _so close_. He was literally within ten steps of the stables and a pony all his own and freedom for the day! He'd had so many plans! Oh, what was the point of having to wait for a new brother or sister if their growing inside his mum made her slow enough that he could escape usually unscathed but he got caught anyway?

Plastering on an innocent grin that was a perfect echo of Kili's, he replied, "Nothing, Uncle Thorin. Hello, Uncle Dwalin. What are the two of _you_ up to?"

The taller dwarf snorted in barely contained laughter and merely nodded in greeting to the little Dwobbit. Raising an eyebrow at his friend, Thorin found himself hard-pressed to keep his own mouth in a straight line. "Oh aye, nothing is it? Nothing wouldn't happen to include running away from your mother when she can't chase you and your father is in Mirkwood, would it? There wouldn't be, oh I don't know, the stealing of ponies or dropping water on Gimli from the second balcony over the gate included in nothing, would there?"

The four-year-old deflated visibly and blew the hair out of his eyes with a sigh. "Yes… It's just… Well, mum can't really play as much as she used to with the baby making her slow and da is gone for the next week and he said I couldn't come along this time because of spiders or something and Bofur is working today and Bifur is selling toys instead of making them which isn't as fun and it's summer and wonderful but none of the rest of you like outside as much as I do and…! It's not like I could get into that much trouble out by myself."

Fili fondly blamed his son's early eloquence—or at least proclivity for saying as many words as quickly as possible—on his mother blathering on in three different languages at any given time, but he knew that wasn't it. It was because Fili was his father. The blonde had done the exact same thing at such an early age, too.

At this point, Thorin was forced to elbow Dwalin, his bodyguard for the day, in the ribs to keep him from cackling aloud and giving the little one the wrong idea. He really didn't know what was so damnably funny about the whole thing, especially for Dwalin, but the sharp jab had him quieting enough that Thori didn't notice.

"And how do you figure that?"

If his grin from earlier was one hundred percent Kili, then the flat look Thori turned up toward his uncle was proof of just how closely his apple had fallen beside the Bilbo Baggins tree. "I have twelve uncles, Uncle Thorin. _Twelve_. One of you _always_ finds me. I don't think mum even looks anymore."

That was true, but Thorin knew it was actually because she trusted the child to explore and discover things on his own. He had an entire mountain of dwarves who would look out for him, who knew him by name. She remembered being a happy, free, wayward hobbit child and loving it. She wanted the same for her children. He just also knew that she preferred it when Thori told her he was going off to explore instead of just 'escaping' when she wasn't looking.

"That's because she wants you to enjoy yourself, just if you ask first."

Stepping forward, Thorin grabbed his grand-nephew by the waist, tossed him into the air to get the frown off his features, and then settled him on his back as they proceeded toward the stables. "To answer your question, Thori, the two of us are heading to Dale for the day. We're meeting with King Bard about some things."

The blonde started bouncing excitedly, his age coming out despite his flood of words, "Can I come, too?! Please!"

"Yes, you can come, too."

"Oh, oh! Can I visit Miss Tilda and the bees? She always lets me have a little taste of honeycomb when I go see her. And can we go to the market? Mr. Bain took me to a stall last time that sells kites. I've never had a kite before. And-and can we see Mrs. Siggy's new baby. She said I could visit and practice holding Amelia so I had practice for when my little brother or sister comes."

With hardly a chance to answer Thori's questions as they came, Thorin just settled into wait until he was finished…or at least out of breath. He really was Fili's son. Whenever he muttered that truth to Poppy, she broke down into giggles and had to hide her smile behind her hand.

She'd suggested that perhaps this second child she was carrying would be quieter, but he really wouldn't mind if she turned out just as talkative as her brother—he'd put down some gold with Nori that it was going to be a girl. He was in the minority there, but he had a hunch. Dís had had cravings for savory, salty things when she was pregnant with both Fili and Kili. Poppy was constantly going for sweets this time around. She had with Thori, too, but not to this degree. He figured it was just the offset between Hobbits and Dwarves with their eating habits.

The girl could babble on as much as she liked. Thorin enjoyed having children to talk to him like Thori did, warmly and without fear or undo reverence. He was just Thori's uncle who played with him and tossed him in the air and with outward reluctance told him stories he'd heard a hundred times.

"My business is mostly with King Bard, but if his children aren't too busy we can visit all of them. I know he hasn't let Siggy return to running his hall all the time yet, so if she's not too tired she will probably let you go see the baby."

"Oh good."

Thori quieted for all of a few minutes as they greeted the stable hands and mounted. Dwalin still had his pony, Cinnamon, and when he thought his friend and nephew—it was far too complicated to know how precisely they were all related; they were just family—weren't looking he pulled a few carrots from his pocket and fed them to the animal. She nickered happily and nudged the dwarf in the chest affectionately.

Thorin and Thori shared a conspiratorial look and smile as Dwalin glared a little at the stable hand nearest him, making the lad look away, before rubbing the pony's neck.

Nodding to the dwarf who held his pony's reins, Thorin patted the white and black splotched animal's side as it greeted his nephew. Though not nearly to the same degree, on the whole animals were drawn to Thori just like his mother. Birds were rather more indifferent and the lad had to work to catch the rabbits he chased, but ponies and the dogs that the Men of Dale liked to keep were fond of him almost immediately.

The child giggled a little as she lipped at his hair and he asked, "What's her name?"

The dwarf replied, "Mereth. She's one of the ones your mother helped foul the year before last."

"I'm not surprised," he said somberly. "Mum is good with animals and babies of all kinds."

Though he again wasn't sure why, Dwalin started laughing from the next stall. At Thorin's raised eyebrow, he mouthed silently, 'He sounds just like you.'

Smile also on his mouth, the dwarf still holding the reins nodded, "Aye, little prince, she is at that."

"Alright," Thorin interrupted, "we're going to be late. Come and climb up."

Thori was very adamant that he could mount his own pony and had been since he met his first pony at age three. Thankfully, he'd only met with docile beasts who liked him and tolerated his antics so far. He'd inherited his mother's stubbornness. Using the bale of straw kept in the back of the stall, he climbed up first onto the wall and from there pulled himself onto the pony's back.

He settled himself in front of the saddle, tangling his fingers in the mane before him and prodded excitedly, "Come on, Uncle Thorin. Let's go."

Fighting a fondly exasperated sigh, he pulled himself on behind and took the proffered reins from the dwarf. Nudging the pony forward, he whispered to the dwarf while Thori started animatedly telling Dwalin all about the flowers he was growing in his little corner of his mother's garden, "Send a lad to Princess Annori and tell her the prince is with me."

"Yes, my king," he replied with another nearly hidden smile. "I'll send someone right away."

"Thank you." And with Thori still thrilling Dwalin with details of irises and marigolds and climbing the maple tree, they set off.

The plain between the mountain and Dale was fully back at its former glory, fields and stone roads crisscrossing the land amongst infant clusters of pine trees and firs. The road was its usual full and pleasantly noisy as they rode toward the town of Men. The people, both dwarf and man, stopped as they rode by and either gave small bows or curtsies. Thori waved at those he knew from his time spent either shadowing Bofur and Bifur in the toy shop or Dori in the Ri Brothers' trading store.

Leaving their ponies at the gate, Dwalin giving Cinnamon another hidden carrot, the tall dwarf put Thori up on his shoulders as they made their way through the crowds of the midday market. They parted easily as soon as they recognized who was walking among them, but it was still best to keep Thori up and secure.

Bard met them at the bottom of the stairs leading up to his hall with a smile and welcoming arms. He'd gotten a bit more grey in his hair in the last years, but he'd settled well into his role as king. There were whispers that he was even looking to perhaps remarry. There was a family of traders who'd come up from Rohan of all places to see what the newly established Men of Dale had to offer. The widowed matriarch leading them had become a _close_ friend. Dwalin knew for a fact that Siggy was the leader of those urging her da to ask for her hand and find happiness once again.

But, that was not the reason for their royal visit.

Taking each of the dwarf's forearms in a clasp of greeting, Bard similarly squeezed Thori's little arm before noting, "I see Poppy sent an envoy on her behalf today."

"Without her knowledge," Thorin added, making Bard smile.

"I escaped," Thori declared proudly.

"Which is _not_ something to be proud of," Thorin added with a bit of weight in his tone. "And you're going to apologize to her when you get home."

Still smiling, Bard ushered them inside and sent one of his doorwardens to fetch Siggy. The new mother appeared not long after the four of them settled in Bard's study, the large windows facing the river and lake beyond wide open. Dale was overall a much brighter, more pleasant city than Lake-town had been.

Amelia was passed around the dwarves gathered, cooing up at Dwalin with a toothless smile on her face, before Siggy settled onto a bench along the wall with Thori. The baby was almost too big to fit in his smaller arms, but the woman assured him that his new sibling would be much smaller.

Once again, Thorin was struck by how like his father Thori seemed. The look of awed bewilderment on his features was the same that Fili had worn when he held Kili for the first time. They would even be nearly the same age when Thori's younger sibling arrived. The awe quickly devolved into the two making faces at one another, Thori wiggling his pointed ears to make the infant reach out her little fists to grab at them and the braids in his hair.

And in that relaxed atmosphere, Thorin and Bard, two kings in Middle-earth, began to discuss their plans for the festival to celebrate the harvest coming in later in the autumn. If there was one thing that almost a decade of ruling as neighbors had taught them, it was to plan ahead as much as possible…especially when Thranduil planned on making an appearance.

Thorin acknowledged that a few of his advisors would be more than a little scandalized at how he conducted some of his business as king—in a study with a baby and his nephew nearby for starters. He _knew_ that his grandfather wouldn't approve. But, the topics of the day weren't exactly those of life and death, war and peace, or anything of that magnitude. Formality had its place, but none of his immediate predecessors had managed quite so…amiable relations with their neighbors.

And more than that, he was a different sort of king than his grandfather. Thror had been a king who one loved and respected but never really saw except from a distance. Thorin liked that he could walk through Erebor without a full contingent of guards acting as a wall between him and his people.

Their talks and planning went easily enough, both having work to do on their ends. Fili would no doubt have further information when he returned from his visit to Mirkwood. Thranduil's steward, Merileth, was _nothing_ if not thorough in her work.

Their business concluded and a small lunch had, Bard decided to escort them down to Tilda. The teenager had become the region's foremost expert on bees and she could reach her arm fully into the hive without worry of being stung at this point. She happily gave her da a hug when they arrived and, as hoped, she cut out a small taste of full honeycomb for Thori. He munched happily on it as she went about her work, answering his many questions as she did.

After Dwalin had a disconcerting run-in with a bee taking up residence in his beard, they retreated back toward the market. "Where do they sell kites? Mr. Bard, do you know where they sell kites?"

It had been explained to Thori a number of times that Bard was a king just like Thorin, but his Hobbit lineage had as of yet won out over Dwarf when it came to titles. Girls like Tilda were Miss. Girls like Siggy were Mrs. or Mistress. And all boys were Mr. or Master. It was really quite simple.

Another smile upon his face, Bard pointed toward a stall with kites of all shapes and colors hanging from it. "I believe that's the one you're searching for, Master Thori."

"Oh good. Thank you."

Laughing, he nodded to Thorin and Dwalin, "I have some more matter to attend to today. I'll take my leave."

A green and orange kite in the shape of a fish was picked out and Thorin was informed that he would be paid back as soon as Uncle Bofur paid Thori for his help in the toy shop again.

They were received back at the mountain without trouble and it was soon decided that the second rampart would be a perfect place to fly a kite. It would also be a perfect place to keep Thori in one spot so that his mother could come and find him.

Without much trouble, the kite was soon airborne, Gimli had been sent to find Poppy, and Thorin found himself flying a kite for the first time in his life. After not even ten minutes, Thori was napping deeply against his shoulder where they sat on the stone, the guards patrolling the walls smiling fondly as they passed every so often. He'd had a long day of escaping and adventuring and if Thorin remembered correctly, it was about his nap time to boot.

It was strangely calming, this kite-flying, the way the paper fish bobbed through the air as if it were swimming. It was still floating on its way, Thori having sleepily crawled into his lap at some point, when Poppy finally joined them. A look of extreme if affectionate annoyance was on her face until she fully took on the scene before her. Then she merely let out a sigh.

Using Dwalin's shoulder to help ease herself and her large belly down to the stone, she whispered, "I swear, all he has to do is ask and I'll gladly let him run about to his heart's content. But no, he sees the slightest sign of weakness that I can't run after him and he takes it. Stubborn boy."

Thorin smiled, "He's like Fili. He and Kili 'escaped' often, too. It drove Dis mad."

"Well, so did Bilbo and I, but one of us usually threw some parting words at our mothers before we disappeared," the hobbit replied, her face morphing into adoration as she ruffled her son's hair. He absently swatted at the feeling in his sleep.

Rather out of the blue, Dwalin began snickering again. Eyebrow raised after looking to Thorin and receiving nothing more than mutual confusion, Poppy queried, "And what's with you?"

"Oh, nothing, lass," he whispered, shifting his gaze to the plain before them. "Just basking in the irony Mahal has given me. It's a funny thing…how hard it is to keep track of hobbits in this mountain. I remember trying to keep you from 'escaping' your guard at every turn."

Huffing as both dwarves beside her started quietly laughing, Poppy turned and smacked his arm, "Oh, shut up."

Though he didn't voice it aloud, Thorin couldn't help but smile a little fondly at the irony that there he was, arguably shirking a few of his kingly duties to fly the kite of his grand-nephew, mothered by the very hobbit he'd tried so very hard to make go home. Even if Mahal had the stern humor of most dwarves, then his wife at least was laughing at how things turned out.

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A/N: Thanks so much for reading, review if the desire takes you, and I hope you enjoy. Here's hoping I see you all again soon. :D


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